


Wongrange Snippets, Part II

by merrywil



Series: i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night (and snippets) [3]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, also more fluff, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrywil/pseuds/merrywil
Summary: Summary:  And some indeterminate time after, Stephen finally gets a clue.They dip their wings in the sunset,They dash against the airAs if to break themselves upon its stillness:In every movement, too swift to count,Is a revelry of indecision,A furtive delight in trees they do not desireAnd in grasses that shall not know their weight.They hover and lean toward the meadowWith little edged cries;And then,As if frightened at the earth’s nearness,They seek the high austerity of evening skyAnd swirl into its depth.--Swallows, Leonora Speyer





	Wongrange Snippets, Part II

It was a beautiful summer’s evening in Kathmandu. The last rays of the setting sun caressed the tops of the mountains, gilding their snow-capped peaks. In the darkened east, lowering clouds foreshadowed the coming thunderstorm. Wong watched a fork of lightning, so far off as to be barely visible, spear towards the ground. They were due a break in this humidity.

Perhaps in anticipation, the evening birdsong had fallen silent. A light breeze had picked up, gently rustling the leaves of the trees. But in the absence of sound from the empty courtyard below, it was easy to hear someone approaching the balcony on which he stood.

The footsteps were somewhat uneven and shuffling, far different from their usual pace. Wong had heard them briskly hurry along the stones as their owner moved with purpose to a meeting or a class. Had heard them scuffle and meander back and forth through the library, accompanied by muttered musings about a new spell or discovery.

And wasn’t it just yet another symptom of the same ailment, that he carried such a depth of knowledge about the sound of one individual’s footfalls?

He heard the other person settle with a relieved sigh against the balustrade to his left. For a long minute, there was only the sound of carefully controlled breathing. Then, “Wong.”

“Stephen.” Wong continued to stare stoically forwards, hands clasped behind his back. A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

“Hey. What’s wrong?”

Oh, what an innocent question. So easy to dismiss with trite reassurances, and then carry on afterwards, as they had been for so long. The study and self-awareness required for mastery of the mystic arts instilled a discipline rivalled by few other walks of life. But even the strongest metal could fail, given a great enough load.

With a growl, Wong spun to face the other man. Stephen was certainly his colleague; Wong regarded him as a close friend as well, had done so for many years. He had but rarely seen the other man as taken aback as he was now, but then Wong could not recall when he himself had last lost his temper to this degree. And he doubted he would have ever directed it at Stephen, all things considered. But everyone had their breaking point.

“What's wrong? By the Vishanti, Stephen, you almost *died*!”

It was sort of like kicking a puppy, and Wong almost instantly felt a sense of burrowing guilt. He let his anger carry him along, knowing already that he would regret his words once it had abated. 

“We could have found another option. Reinforcements were on their way. You didn’t need to resort to using Atlantean magic. It’s incredibly dangerous, especially to its user.”

Wong found his ire deflating, running out of fuel like a raging fire that had consumed too much oxygen. With a gusty exhale, he turned away, scrubbing his face with one shaking hand. After a moment, he felt a gentle touch (tremoring for an entirely different reason) ghost against his elbow.

“Feel better now?”

Wong was filled with the sudden urge to laugh hysterically, but he clamped down that inclination with an iron will. There had been quite enough emotional displays for one conversation, thank you very much. Instead he turned back to his friend, face schooled into its more usual impassivity.

“Hey. There’s the Wong we all know and love.” Stephen smiled, and for a moment Wong was distracted by the simple observation of how aesthetically pleasing that sight was. Stephen really ought to smile more often, especially in the way that made his eyes sparkle and the laugh lines at their corners crinkle.

Stephen was still speaking. Stop staring. Focus.

“...part of the job description, you know that. Yes, reinforcements were on their way, but they wouldn’t have made it in time to stop the dimensional rift from opening. There was no other option. Although,” and now Stephen’s voice wavered with a thread of uncertainty. “I’m truly sorry for scaring you.”

Wong huffed, bracing both hands against the balustrade. “Please try to take greater care in future, in that case. It is particularly difficult to replace Sanctum masters, and in the current climate of unrest…”

“Hey.” The gentle touch at his elbow was back. “Wong, stop.”

Wong did, diatribe trailing off as he turned to face the other man. Stephen was still leaning against the balcony, although Wong suspected it was a pose taken out of necessity more than desire. It brought the taller sorcerer down a couple of inches, so that they were essentially face to face. Stephen was staring at him with a look equal parts fondness and curiosity. 

“Why were you really afraid?”

And when had Stephen Strange, former neurosurgeon and current master of the mystic arts, become so adept at reading human beings? Wong would rather leap off the balcony on which he stood, throw himself into another dimension without a sling ring, or burn every book in his beloved library than give voice to the *true* answer to that question. He looked away, watching the lightning flash just beyond the city below them.

He felt the faintly trembling fingers leave his elbow, then startled as they encircled his wrist, touch as fragile as the brush of a butterfly’s wings. He could have pulled away easily, but he would never do that. Instead, he felt his eyes drawn back to Stephen’s, pulled there as if by an inescapable magnetic force.

The other man shuffled one step closer, still supporting himself against the railing. “I am so tired right now that I’m going to do something very brave or very stupid, not sure which. Tell me if I’m reading this wrong. Please.”

Stephen was just inches away now, and Wong could feel the heat radiating from his body in the cooling evening air. “You...are not. Reading it wrong, that is. But I did not think you were interested. You have mentioned Christine, but then no one.”

Stephen’s smile was not the dazzling brilliance of earlier, but it was soft and warm. And it reached his eyes. “Generally, it’s not something I am interested in, or need. Which I know isn’t entirely normal. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it with a person that I...care for. And I care for you, my friend. A great deal.”

Wong felt like he couldn’t quite breathe properly. Stephen took one step further into Wong’s space, letting Wong take some of his weight as he was forced to let go of the balustrade. Wong leaned forwards as well, meeting him midway. Equals in this, as in all things.

Kissing Stephen was, in part, just that. Wong could feel the rough brush of the other man’s beard, the chapped dryness of his lips, the fleeting stroke of his tongue. But he could also feel the immense power, even as exhausted as Stephen was, that coiled within the other man. 

And when their auras met, it felt like being struck by lightning. Blue and red flames danced, courting each other like the swallows that flitted above the courtyard. Embraced and being embraced, they explored each other’s beings truly for the first time. Wong was left with no doubt as to the genuineness of Stephen’s affection, and finally his uncertainty vanished.

After what seemed a lifetime but could only have been a few minutes, they parted. Stephen remained half leaning against Wong, and half against the balcony’s railing.

Stephen’s quiet laugh nearly made him jump. “We’re idiots, the pair of us. I was hesitant to broach the subject because I wasn’t sure if *you’d* be comfortable, Wong.”

Now Wong gave an undignified snort. He finally felt like the earth was settling into place under his feet again, although perhaps it was an entirely new world that he’d come to land on. “Stephen, I went to university in Britain in the 90s. And you know well enough that our order accepts those from all walks of life.”

“Fair enough.” Stephen grinned. “And hey, half of the compound thinks we’re married already. You leave your headphones in when you don’t want to talk to me about something. I steal your books. You cook, and I do the dishes.”

“Hmm. In other words, I am the useful member of this relationship, and you exist to irritate me and get in trouble.”

“Ouch! Ugh, please don’t make me laugh right now.” Wong gave an exasperated sigh, and with an eye to the ever-looming stormfront put a careful hand around Stephen’s waist.

“You ought to be in bed. Master Xu told you to drink the healing draught and some tea, and not to get up before morning. He certainly did not recommend gallivanting all over the compound in the rain. You are an idiot.”

“Yeah.” As they made their way back indoors, Stephen leaned into Wong’s side, perhaps more than necessary. There was nowhere else Wong would rather have him be. “But I’m your idiot.”

Behind them, the first raindrops began to strike the stones of Kamar-Taj.

FINIS


End file.
